Ryder

Chapter 8

The whole weekend is amazing. I get holeshot in every race. I win all the heats and finals. Without that cunt here to sabotage me, I flourish. If he put the same amount of effort into racing as he does into pissing me off, he would be so much more impressive instead of average. What makes him so good is money. He has the best of everything, so even a monkey could excel with that advantage.

There's a recruiter for one of the bigger teams who's impressed and wants to come back next weekend to make sure this isn't a fluke. Although I've been riding since I can remember, I'm new to this league and a new name to watch out for. As the recruiter leaves, I spin, and Dad and Lee are standing there waiting patiently for the outcome.

I screech and run towards them. "He's coming back to see me next week."

We all hug, and I have to admit, with Archi-fucking-bald out of the way, things go a lot smoother, and I have it on great authority that he won't be at the next three races, so it's a win-win for me.

I just need to consistently show up in the top three, although taking the win won't hurt for them to take me seriously. There's one place on their team, and I want it to have my name on it, especially after Arch seems to think it's already his.

I swing Lee around, and he kisses my cheek. "I'm so proud of you. You were amazing."

We head home, and although I'm excited, something will have to give. I really like Lee, but I don't see how I will have the time to give him the attention he deserves while chasing my dream. I've barely seen him this weekend. There's so much to do, and I love his support and enthusiasm, but he's spent most of the weekend sitting alone watching us. It can't have been much fun, and if I get on the team, I don't know when I will see him.

I sigh, and Dad rests his hand on my leg. "You okay, son?"

"Yeah, just thinking."

"Well, don't think too hard, okay? Just let yourself enjoy it for a minute before you put a dampener on it, and let real life scar it, okay?"

I smile at him, and he chuckles. "I'm so fucking proud of you, ya know."

"Thanks, Dad, and thanks for believing in me and sticking around."

I stare out the window, not wanting Dad to see me get emotional. He squeezes my leg, then taps it and goes back to driving.

As we walk through the door, Mum squeals and throws herself at me. "Oh my god, baby, I'm so proud of you." She peppers kisses across my cheek and reaches up to ruffle my hair like she always does, as if I'm still five, and I melt. I love this woman; she is my everything, even though she still calls me baby.

The next meetings come and go, and I'm up there. I'm getting holeshot more regularly and consistently making the top four—not bad for a heathen. In your motherfucking face, Archi-fucking-bald! I'm doing great, and the recruiters are impressed, especially due to my lack of decent equipment, let's say. I mean, my bike is fast; Dad and I work tirelessly on it, and although the exterior looks like a piece of shit and the plastics are taped together in places, I don't skimp on the engine. I have a few spare hours between shifts and decide to head out to the garage and work out. I don't have weights or a fancy gym. I have a huge tractor tyre that the local farmer gave me. I have some breeze blocks, a skipping rope and a boxing bag. Dad calls it my prison workout, and I smile at the thought.

I do callisthenics, which I learned when I couldn't afford to go to the gym, using my body weight. I sometimes use the apparatus at the local park, I use the rafters in the garage for pull-ups, and Dad put me some handholds in the walls so I can pull up on those. There's also the YMCA near us that has a climbing wall, and they had a group that was held there. Dad used to take me, so I got really good at that, and it helped with my ‘anger issues'. Having something else to focus on, something physical to drain the energy I had growing up. It also helped with strengthening everything to make me a better rider, a more aggressive rider and fearless. Something is calming about hanging from a wall by your fingertips and dangling there thirty feet up.

As I push myself in the garage till I'm dripping with sweat, the back door clicks open, and Mum stands in the gap, smiling at me.

"What?" I smirk at her. She just shakes her head and continues to watch me as I cool down, tossing me a towel when I've finished.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"About what?" I frown.

"Whatever's got you training like you're staging a prison break."

I laugh. "I'm good."

"I know, but something"s bothering you. I will be fine while you're away. I'm okay on my own. You don't have to worry about me."

Smiling, I stalk towards her and sweep her into my arms. She doesn't flinch away even though I'm dripping in sweat. She wraps her arms around me, "I love you, ya know."

"I know, Mum. I know you're good, and you're fine without me."

"I never said that!" She chuckles. "I said I'm okay alone. I will never be fine without you. You're my baby. But I will be okay. You've worked so hard, but I know it's not me you're worried about, so what's happening?"

"Lee." I sigh. "I just don't see how I can have him and this. I can't see how I can be the guy he needs and give him the attention he deserves when I'm going to be away so much. I kind of got swept up when I met him. It was fast, I never saw it coming, ya know, liking him so much? But I didn't think about its logistics. I'm gonna be away a lot, and with work and training, I'm not going to have time for him. I can't expect him to wait around while I chase my dream."

She sighs. "Baby, don't be so hard on yourself, but maybe spell it out for him and let him decide what he's willing to do." She grips me tighter. "You can't decide for him."

I know she's right; she always is, but I can't help but feel guilty for getting into this, knowing I won't be around for him. If he chooses to stay with me, what would that relationship actually look like?

I head for a shower before my shift at the supermarket.

When I arrive at the store, I clock in and head out onto the floor, filling the shelves, checking the produce dates, and reducing those on the verge. I lose myself in the monotony of the job. That's when I hear things clatter from my trolley. I spin, and Archi-fucking-bald is standing there with a couple of guys and a few of the track bunnies.

"Watch where you're going!" he spits at me.

I clench my fists, glaring down at him, before kneeling, picking the items up, and placing them back on the trolley and calming myself.

I turn to face him, I shove the trolley hard and hit him with it, knocking him off balance, and he crashes to the floor.

"Oh my gosh, sir. I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there. Please accept my sincerest apologies," I state louder than needed. "Here, let me help you up."

I bend down and grip his arms, holding him tight in my grasp. I bruisingly drag him from the floor, standing him on his own feet before slapping at him harder than necessary to remove the imaginary dirt. I grab his hand in mine as if to shake it and grip his wrist with my other hand, squeezing hard while shaking his hand.

"I'm so, so, sorry." I grin. "I truly hope you're okay."

He's wincing at the pressure I'm putting on his wrist, and he squirms in my grasp, but the people with him have backed up considerably, letting him and I know he's on his own. These people aren't his friends. They probably hang around him because he has money, hoping they can manipulate some from him, but friends? Definitely not.

I step into him, and I pull him towards me at the same time as he crashes into my chest. I still have his hand in my grasp. I squeeze and twist.

Growling at him, I say, "It's you who needs to fucking watch it!" I snarl. "Don't think I can't or won't take everything you think is yours and destroy you. You may have fucking money, but talent? You're shit out of luck on that one, mate!" I spit. "According to you, I have nothing, which also means I have nothing to fucking lose. Keep pushing, I fucking dare you!"

I push him back, so he stumbles. He glares around at his ‘friends', but they're looking anywhere but at him.

"You take care now. I would hate for you to injure yourself on your way out, sir." I point. "Exit's that way! Thank you for shopping with us," I snarl.

As he walks away, I hear a faint, "Are you okay, sweetie?"

I turn and soften my face as I see Cheryl.

"Yes, thank you, Cheryl. Don't worry, I don't think they will be back."

She smiles and helps me pick up the last of the items he knocked on the floor. The Tannoy goes off.

"Clean up on aisle four."

I groan. What did the fucker do on his way out of the store? As I round aisle four, the cereal is all over the floor, and a couple of boxes have been ripped open and thrown around. Petty fucker. I can't wait to get him where it hurts, in his fucking trophy cabinet, because I'm leaving him in the motherfucking dirt.

I smile as I get to work, and I can see him gazing in through the window. I laugh to Cheryl and wink as I whistle while I clean up the cereal. This is gonna be so good. I can't wait to destroy that miserable fucker.

I'm gonna take everything that he thinks he deserves. We don't get anything in this life for free; all the money in the world can't buy him the talent he needs. I have more talent in my little finger than he has in his whole body. A fast bike isn't gonna win you a place on the team, and neither is a shitty attitude, so I paint that motherfucking smile on my face and get to it. Tomorrow's another day. You may not have that many tomorrows to count, Archi-fucking-bald, but mark my words: I will make each one as miserable as I can. The rest of the night flies by, and I need to hurry home so I can get a few hours of sleep before I need to be in the garage.